


Bad Dreams

by Lauralot



Series: Daddy Issues [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kid Fic, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James has a nightmare.  Brock isn't the best at being comforting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Despite this series not containing the events of Civil War, this fic does have Civil War spoilers. If only of the "Lauralot pretends sad things were just a dream" variety. What can I say? I'm soft-hearted.

It’s hard enough on Brock’s body when there’s one super soldier in his bed.  On a night like this, with two of them?   He’s out almost as quick as he gets off.  And he’ll still be aching when he wakes in the morning, scars feeling twice as tight as usual.  It wouldn’t be worth the hassle except that Steve and Winter live up to their demigod reputation when they fuck too, and also that this is better than anything Brock deserves, so he intends to take advantage until the universe recognizes its mistake.

But this time, he doesn’t wake up to his muscles groaning in protest as Winter shifts the mattress ever so slightly, getting up to make breakfast.  Instead, there’s a hard impact against his chest, knocking the breath out of him as his body _screams_  with pain.  Someone’s crying.  The burning in his lungs tells Brock that it can’t be him.

It’s James.  Jarvis isn’t supposed to let him in when they’re all naked and fucked out, but the kid’s hysterical, shaking and sobbing, and Brock can see why the computer made an exception.

A little forewarning would have been fucking nice, though.

Winter’s mismatched hands grasp the kid’s waist, trying to lift him off.  That only makes James cry harder, squeezing his little hands tight around Brock’s arms.  He barely feels how much that hurts.  The kid hasn’t had a nightmare this bad in a long time.  What the hell happened?

“James.”  Steve has one hand rubbing up and down his son’s back.  His other hand is scrambling to pull the blankets up in a way that makes them all decent.  “James, _breathe_.  What’s wrong?”  


The kid shrieks something that Brock _thinks_ is meant to be “You hurt the Commander!”

Which.  Fuck.  Brock thought that James’s therapists had taught him the difference between assault and consensual sex between adults way back, before they even announced their weird little threesome.  What caused a backslide this bad?

“We would never hurt him, _mishka_ ,” Winter says.  He’s given up trying to remove the kid, but his hands are still on him, keeping the majority of his weight off of Brock’s chest.

“Daddy did!” James wails.  “And so did Tasha and everybody else!  And the Commander was on fire and it was so bad—and—and—”  He's still shouting, but it becomes incomprehensible.  Just a mess of sobs and shrieks.

 A nightmare.  About the time the Triskelion fell on Brock’s face, from the sound of it.  It should make Brock’s heart stop racing, knowing there’s no real danger, but if anything, his pulse speeds up.  He can still feel the smoke burning in his throat and lungs, the weight of the rubble crushing down on him.  Like he wasn’t in enough pain from the kid catapulting onto his chest.   _Thanks a lot_.  


But that’s not fair.  It’s not like James can help what he dreams.  Especially not after his fucked up past.  Brock’s lucky the kid will talk to him at all after what he’s done, let alone feel sad when he has dreams about Brock suffering.  It’s so much more than he deserves.

“It’s okay,” Brock manages.  He tries to hug James, but his body is very clear that he can fuck off with that idea.  “I’m okay, kiddo.  It wasn’t real.”  


James doesn’t answer.  He’s still crying, but it seems like Steve and Winter’s interventions have calmed him down a little.  Or maybe he’s just more awake than he was when he came charging in here.

“Brock’s all right.”  Steve gives the little guy’s shoulder a squeeze.  “See?  It was just a nightmare.  How about we go back to your room and pick out a book for me to read to—”

“Have no fear, Bucky Bear is here!”

Oh fucking hell.  Like things weren’t bad enough, now Barnes is waltzing through the doorway, zooming the kid’s teddy bear around like it’s flying.  Isn’t Jarvis programmed to warn him of this shit?  Or does the AI just hate Brock that much?  


“Jarvis told me you were sad and you left your bear on your bed,” Bucky continues, moving closer.  “So now we’re both here to help cheer you—oh, for fuck’s sake, Jarvis, why didn’t you tell me they’re all ass-naked?”  


“This is why normal people knock,” Brock snaps.  Barnes has no right to act so disgusted.  This can’t be the first time he’s walked in on goddamn _Captain America_ in the aftermath of a threesome.  


“Language, Buck,” Steve says at the same time, though the kid still seems too worked up to really be listening.  “James.  Look at me, little lamb.  Brock’s okay.  No one here is going to hurt him.  And if anyone else tries, Jarvis will tell us and we’ll protect him.  Okay?”

James sniffles.  He releases his death grip on one of Brock’s arms to wipe at his nose.  “Uh-huh.”

“Now why don’t we get you back to bed?  Bucky and I can tuck you in—”

“No!”  And just like that, the kid’s got his little fingers digging into Brock’s skin again.  Fuck.  “I’m not leaving the Commander!”

“James.”  Brock manages to maneuver one hand to brush the kid’s hair back from his face, trying to get him to make eye contact and calm the fuck down.  “I’m _fine_ , kiddo.  Promise.  You can go back to bed.  You need to sleep for school, okay?”  


“Not leaving.”  The stubborn little shit somehow manages to wrench his way out of Winter’s grip, lying down on top of Brock.  Thankfully, he’s too short to risk his feet kicking at Brock’s most sensitive areas.  “I thought you were dead.”  


“I’m not dead.”  


James doesn’t even respond.

“I guess you can sleep in here,” Steve says slowly.  “If that’s all right with you, Brock?”  


No, it’s not all right.  He feels like shit, his heart is still racing from the rude awakening, there’s a kid lying on his chest while he’s naked as a jay bird, and if the kid sleeps here, then Winter and Steve definitely won’t.  Well, Steve won’t.  Brock’s never quite sure about Winter.

But James is _still_ sniffling, and Brock isn’t completely heartless.  Not even when there’s a little prosthetic arm pushing on his throat.  “Okay.”

“Here,” Barnes says.  He tosses the bear toward the bed, like he’s afraid he’ll catch something if he touches the sheets.  He’s even more of a brat than the kid, really.  


“Love you,” James whispers into Brock’s ear, his breathing finally steadying, and those two little words make it worth it even as Brock watches Steve grab his pants and walk away.  


It doesn’t quite make up for Winter grabbing Brock’s sore legs to try and worry a pair of boxer shorts up onto him, though.


End file.
